I Wish I Could Help You
by Queen of Cliffies
Summary: Ray K's been arrested for a crime that didn't even happen. He's got to find his 'dead' friend with only a mountie, a wolf and a real dead guy to help him. To make things worse, the kidnappers contact him and want info only the real Vecchio has. Chap 10 up
1. Too Late

**I Wish I Could Help You**

**A/N:** This is my first Due South fic and I've only been watching the show for a couple of weeks, so if the characters are OOC I'm really sorry. Oh yes and the Ray I'll be using is Ray K. I love them both, but my sister loves Ray K more, so I used him for that reason. He's gonna say his name is Ray Vecchio because of the undercover thing, but you all knew that. Oh and all is not as it seems... I don't kill off main characters, especially my favorite. This is for my sister, who made me love the show... and Benny.

My sister was supposed to beta this, but I got impatient.

This takes part after Fraser finds out about his sister, but before the CotW. Maggie is in this fic, she's going to help Ray and such. :-)

P.S. I know it's the original Ray Vecchio that occasionally calls Fraser Benny, but I love it so much I put it in. Also I thought Ray K might use the name just considering the situation he's using it in.

Please R&R!

Chapter One: Too Late

Ray looked out the window of his apartment for a moment, staring at the expanse of dark blue sky. He thought he'd heard something out there, but apparently not. The sound came again and he paused, before moving his gaze down to the street. Diefenbaker was sitting in the middle of the road now, howling.

Muttering to himself, he made his way to the front door of the building, half expecting Fraser to knock before he made it there, but for some reason, the knock never came. He opened the door and looked out at Diefenbaker, "Dief!" He knew it was kind of fruitless to call to the wolf, but he did anyways. Diefenbaker chose that moment to look at him and bounded over. Ray bent down and rubbed the wolf's neck, "Dief, what are you doing here? Where the hell's Fraser?"

Dief just whined softly, nuzzling his nose into Ray's hand, before looking up at him. "I know you're trying to tell me something...but I don't speak wolf. That's Fraser's job."

Dief whined again when he saw Ray's mouth move in the familiar way of speaking the constable's name.

"Oh come on, I'll drive ya to the Consulate," Ray muttered goodnaturedly, giving Dief another pat on the head, "You shouldn't sneak off on him though."

He opened the door and let Diefenbaker climb into the car, before getting in himself. He started it up and began to drive. He looked back for a moment, "Why did you come here Dief," he murmured quietly. The oddity of the situation hitting him. As he approached a turn, Dief gave a loud 'woof'.

"Okay, I'm turning," Ray told the wolf and started to wonder if he was crazy. Here he was, taking directions from a wolf, and a deaf one for that matter. It was at a smokey warehouse that Dief barked at him to stop. "Dief..." he trailed off, seeing the smoke billowing from the building, "Please don't tell me Fraser's in there."

Dief gave another 'woof', circling on the seat anxiously to answer Ray's question.

"Well shit," Ray voiced angrily, jumping quickly out of the vehicle and Dief followed him. He kicked open the door to the building, coughing hard when the smoke assailed him. In the middle of the room, lay a charred mess of a red clad body.

He fought his way through the heat, "Fraser?!" He called, before bursting into another coughing fit, "Fraser?!" The charred mess moved slightly, an odd rasping noise shaking from it's throat. "Oh shit!" He rushed over to his friend, "Frase? Fraser can you hear me?" He looked at his face, seeing nothing but black and red charred skin. It wasn't recognizable as the man he called his partner. "I'm going to get you out of here Benny," He whispered softly, lifting him into his arms and once again fighting through the smoke as he felt his strength begin to fail him.

He could barely hear sirens, but the sound grew louder with every passing second. When he got out of the warehouse, the fresh air gave him a new energy, he lay his friend gently on the ground and clasping his burnt hand gently, "Benny? Benny? Stay with me man."

A rasp came from Fraser's throat, gurgling something incomprehensible.

"Stay with me Benny. Help's on the way, I can hear the sirens." Ray comforted gently, an odd feeling build up in his throat. It was the unconsolable knowledge that his friend was about to die. "It's going to be okay Benny. I promise."

Dief was running around whining, unable to stay still, as if he knew something that Ray didn't. The wolf stopped, before whining softly, laying down beside Benny, but not daring to touch him. It looked as though Diefenbaker was afraid if he did, he would hurt him.

Another rasped escaped and his head raised over so slightly, trying desperately to make out the word, "N...ot..."

"Not what Benny?" Ray leaned closer to his friend straining to hear.

"N...o...o...t..." the rasp repeated itself and his head fell back to the ground, the strength he'd found disappearing.

"Benny?" Ray clutched his hand tighter, "Come on Frase talk to me. Keep talking. Hang on."

"...n..." was all he could make out and the hand went completely limp. No more desperate rasps came from Constable Benton Fraser, not even one single breath.

"No, Frase... no," he let go of his friend's burnt hand, leaning back in horror, "I was too late," he managed to whisper as the fire trucks and an ambulance finally arrived. A few hands took his arms and pulled him away from the body, "I was too late."

"Ray, what happened here?" A detective from his precinct asked him gently, "Do you know what happened?"

"The wolf came and got me," Ray told him, watching as someone lightly checked Fraser for a pulse, before motioning for a thin white sheet to be laid over the body. "We came here... and I went in. When I found him... when I found Fraser... I carried him out. Then he-" he stopped shaking his head.

"Then he what?" Detective Harras probed further.

"Then he tried to tell me something, but he died before he could finish, okay?!" Ray yelled at him, before turning away from Harras and swiping at his eyes. There were no tears, but they were red and puffy, as if there had been.

"I'm sorry Ray," Detective Harras put a hand on the other man's shoulder for a moment, giving it a squeeze, "I know you and Fraser were close. I- well I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too," Ray muttered, kneeling down and throwing an arm around Dief's neck, "me too." Diefenbaker whined softly and licked Ray's face once, as if trying to comfort him, "Thanks Dief, but I don't think that's gonna cut it this time."

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"May I inquire to why I am here?" Fraser spoke softly, head turning one way, then the other, trying to take in his surroundings. His hands had been handcuffed securely behind him around what seemed to be a metal pole. Two men were talking quickly and quietly a few feet in front of where he was seated on the floor.

One looked his way for a moment, answering with a curt, "No," before turning back to his partner and continuing their conversation.

He had been taking a late night walk with Diefenbaker, that was all he really remembered. Just him and his wolf, strolling down the streets of Chicago on a clear night. He didn't remember seeing anyone and he suspected that they had probably come up behind him. "Where's Diefenbaker?"

"Shut up," was the only reply he recieved, from the same man who'd spoken before.

He tugged lightly at the handcuffs, finding no give. Something was definetly going on here, which was obvious from his current predicament. The only problem was there seemed to be no way for him to get out of it himself, unless these two men made some kind of mistake, or the police found him, "You must realize the police will be looking for me. It would be in your best interest to uncuff me and let me walk out of here."

"You're dead, Mountie," the man, who seemed to be the only one speaking to him, told him with a grin, "To the police, to the RCMP, to your dear friend Detective Raymond Vecchio. No one's going to be looking for you Mountie."

"If that's the case, they will certainly be looking for my killer," Fraser told him seriously, although the sentence sounded odd coming out of his mouth.

"No, that will be handed to them as well," the man's grin reached his ears, "No one will understand why Ray shot his friend and partner, then let him burn, but the evidence will surely support it."

Fraser shook his head, "They won't believe that," he said simply, "They know Ray, they'll believe him."

"We'll see about that, Mountie," he replied softly, "Either way he's going to be pretty distraught, finding your body and all."

"I'm not dead, there is no plausible way he could have found my body," Fraser shook his head again, looking up at the man. He wasn't particularly afraid, it was more of an uneasy feeling that was growing in his stomach.

"But someone else is dead and dressed in your uniform. The body is charred beyond recognition and I had a few good friends of mine switch that man's prints, dental records and DNA files, with yours. One of them is quite the hacker you see," he grinned again as he knelt down in front of the mountie, "So yes, to the rest of the world, you are dead."

"You underestimate the Chicago PD and the RCMP," Fraser told him firmly, believing every word he spoke, "They will realize something is amiss, and they will come to my aid."

The man ruffled his hair and Fraser winced the tiniest despite his efforts not to, "You keep telling yourself that Mountie. It's always a good thing to keep in high hopes, even if said hopes are hopeless."

He turned away from Fraser and continued speaking with his partner, each of them throwing looks his way every now and then.

Fraser pulled again at the handcuffs, even though he knew it was useless. He didn't understand why he was here. If they just wanted to frame Ray, they would have simply killed him, not kidnapped him. They must want or need him for some reason. It could be possible that the only reason they were framing Ray was to keep the police from looking for his killer, but they could have chosen any one person who lived in Chicago, why choose his friend? Perhaps, they needed him for something, and framing Ray was an added perk? None of it made sense to him, but something told him it would.

"Well it looks like you've gotten yourself into an interesting mess this time," a voice told him.

Fraser looked over beside him and sighed, "Dad..." His father was sitting beside him, dressed in his mountie uniform.

"What? You have, haven't you?" His father asked with a shrug, "How do you suppose you're going to get out of it?"

"I don't know," he said, trying to control the frustration, "I'm thinking about it. You have any suggestions?"

"No, I'm dead, what could I possibly do to help," he said, shrugging again, "Other than make you look a little crazy."

Fraser stopped talking to his father, before looking over at the two men. Both of them were staring at him as if he had two heads. "Who were you talking to?" The man asked seriously, glaring at the Constable.

"Nobody," Fraser told him just as seriously.

"Nobody? Son... since when is your father 'nobody'?" His father actually sounded offended.

"Dad can you please be quiet," he hissed quietly to his side, before looking at the man, "There's no one here for me to talk to, other than you and your partner."

"And apparently your father," the man smirked and Fraser merely shrugged, "What are you? Some crazy mountie? I heard your father was dead."

"He is," Fraser answered him simply. "It was the reason I came to Chicago. I came to Chicago on the trail of my father's killer and for reasons that don't need explaining at this junctur-"

"I know," he cut him off, holding up a hand, "I don't need the whole speech. As a matter of fact, I'm getting tired of hearing your voice." He walked over to a table on one side of the room and picked up a roll of duct tape. He approached the mountie and tore off a strip, "So I think I'll shut you up."

Fraser moved his head and shifted his body, trying awkwardly to avoid having the tape pressed over his mouth. The movement made it a little more difficult, but the man was able to slap it on firmly anyways.

"There we go," he smiled, "And now on with the plan."

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The first chapter of my first Due South fanfic. I tried my hardest to keep the characters in character, but if it didn't work, suggestions on helping me do just that are gratefully accepted.


	2. You Can't Kill A Dead Man

Disclaimer: I forgot to put this in the first chapter I think. I do not own Due South, Benny, Diefenbaker, Ray Kowalski or any of the character's on Due South. I only own the bad guys and who wants them?

A/N: Here's chapter two and again, my sister hasn't beta'd this... oh dear, lol. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and overall this story.  


Chapter Two: You Can't Kill A Dead Man

"Ray, we've got a problem," Welsh said solemnly once Ray was called into his office that morning, "ME did a prelim on the body, there was a gunshot wound to the chest. There's no mistaking this, it's murder."

"Someone..." Ray tried to wrap his head around this, "You're telling me someone... actually... killed Fraser? Purposely? No chance this was some bizarre accident?" He rubbed his head tiredly.

"I think we both knew that from the beginning Ray," Welsh told him softly and Ray nodded, "None of us wanted to believe it, but thats how it happens. There had to be a reason Fraser was there in the middle of the night, someone had to have lured him there or something."

"I know," he sighed softly, still trying to rid his mind of his friend's charred face. His blue eyes pleading through burnt sockets for Ray to save him. Those last rasping words as Benny tried to convey some sort of message to him. "This just... it just isn't right. It doesn't sit right with me." His voice sank, "This can't be happening Lieutenant, it can't."

"I'm sorry Ray, but it is," Welsh said softly, "You have to understand you can't be allowed on this case right? I'll have Harras and Rewat on it. They're both perfectly qualified. They'll be working in junction with the Canadian Consulate. I also want you on paid leave for at least a few days, alright?"

"No, no, no," Ray shook his head as he muttered the words, "Don't you see? Frase would want me on this case. He'd want me to find his killer. I can't not work this case, I can't not work."

"This isn't a negotiation Vecchio," The Lieutenant told him seriously, "You're dismissed. Go get some rest, you look like shit Ray. With all that's happened today, you need some shut-eye."

"I won't be able to Lieutenant Welsh," Ray whispered softly as he turned to leave, Diefenbaker on his heels, "Everytime I close my eyes I see Fraser... like that. I won't be able to sleep when it hurts to even blink."

"Look Ray, I'm sorry, we all are. Fraser was a good guy, but beating yourself up over it is not going to help him any," Welsh reminded him, but Ray was out the door before he heard the whole sentence.

Ray looked down at Dief, "I guess it's just me and you now huh Dief," he murmured. Making sure no one was in earshot, he spoke quietly to the wolf, "Let's say me and you go home for a little bit... digest this, before we investigate on our own?"

Dief whined his agreement, pressing his body close to Ray, trying to convey something to him. Ray just patted the animal's head, thinking the act was simply out of grief. Diefenbaker whined again, looking up at the man with sad eyes and Ray kneeled down, hugging the wolf tightly for a short moment.

"It'll be okay Dief," Ray assured softly, wondering who he was talking to, the wolf, or himself. He walked out of the precinct towards his black car. Shaking his head softly, he let Dief in before climbing in himself.

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"So?" The man in charge asked his partner.

"So what?" He shrugged, "They got the stuff switched, everything's in place. Vecchio hasn't been arrested yet, but that's only because ballistics takes time. They'll have him arrested soon enough and then things will be set in motion."

"You're sure Vecchio will tell us what we want?" The man questioned seriously, a hand resting on the back of his friend's chair, "You know I can't afford mistakes."

"Once he's in prison, it'll be easy," his partner assured him simply, a small smile growing on his face, "It'll be like taking candy from a baby, or in this case... information from a detective." They both looked over at the mountie, who was staring at them intently.

"What is it Mountie?" One asked, the only one who would ever address him, "Something on your mind?"

Fraser didn't bother to try and answer him, knowing there was no real use to it. The man was just taunting him, trying to unnerve him. Being held captive was unnerving enough, but he certainly wasn't about to give into this man's taunts.

"I hope you're comfortable enough over there Mountie," the man said with a smug smile, "You're going to be there for awhile. At least until your friend can give us what we want. Then.. well then you will actually be dead."

The thought didn't exactly comfort him, but he knew that Ray would find him before anything serious happened. He trusted in his friend and the detective's ability to find the truth. Surely Ray didn't actually think he was dead, did he? He leaned his head back against the pole he was handcuffed to and continued to stare at the men, hoping to somehow figure out the details of their plan. He didn't know how he would tell anyone those details once he got them, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

His eyes looked down towards his boot, searching to see if they had taken his knife. Frowning, he noticed that they had. That left him with frighteningly little resources, which was probably how they had planned it.

He returned his gaze to the two men, thinking silently. There had to be some way he could get out of this mess and save Ray from being framed. There was absolutely nothing within a three foot radius of where he was sitting, nothing he could use to pick the locks of the handcuffs. It looked like he was inevitably stuck for the moment.

The talkative one approached him, a smile on his face, before addressing him again, "It'll be awhile before we can get actually let Vecchio know you're alive, but I think some bruises now would greatly improve the pictures we're going to show him."

Fraser only stared at him, no fear showing in his face, but the uneasiness that had been growing in his stomach was now churning with a new vengence. He braced himself as the fist met the side of his face, moving his head with the blow to minimize the pain of contact. He turned his face back at the man who'd hit him, staring with an intensity not often seen from captive to kidnapper, at least one that wasn't an angry one. His stare was more of one that was sizing him up, as if trying to tell just how far he would go.

"Did you enjoy that Mountie? Or shall I give you another?" He asked with an infuriating grin and Fraser found his well-know patience finally wearing thin. The man raised his fist again to go in for another punch, but his partner grabbed his arm.

"Not now Grant, it may be weeks or months until we can get what we want out of Veccho. This guy needs to be alive long enough for us to blackmail him with his friend's lfe. You can't exactly afford to beat him to death now, can you?" His partner explained softly, trying to reason with him.

"I was only going to rough him up a bit," Grant told him darkly, but his partner shook his head at him.

"I know better than that. I saw the little baseball bat you have around the corner. It's so obvious, you might have well written 'for the mountie's head' on it." His partner snapped, pulling the baseball bat into view.

"So what? I still wasn't going to kill the guy. I know we need him," he shot a dark look at Fraser, "For now."

"Okay, so now we wait," his partner said, looking purposely at him, as if waiting expecantly for his agreement.

"I hate waiting," Grant muttered angrily, aiming a kick at Fraser's leg. He looked back at his partner, and noticed his exasperated look, "but I am capable of it. Take a chill pill buddy."

Fraser's eyes darted from man to man, before making a short muffled sound through the tape covering his mouth. Grant's partner, strode over to him and ripped it off in one quick motion, "What do you want Mountie?"

"Well simply for you to unlock these handcuffs and surren-" Fraser started, but he stopped at the angry slap that hit his cheek.

"Cut the smartass talk Mountie," he snapped, shoving his hand in his pocket.

"Well you asked me what I wanted-" Fraser spoke plainly, which only got the man angrier

Another slap, "Cut out the bullshit Mountie-boy," he muttered, ripping a new piece of tape, "Unless you want something simply that doesn't include, us surrendering or your rescue or escape, I can't help you. Other than that, what do you want?"

"Well it seems that I need to use the bathroom," Fraser told him and the man knelt down by where the handcuffs were holding him to the pole.

"Grant, hold your gun on him while I do this," he ordered his partner, as he uncuffed one end of the handcuffs.

Grant was holding a large revolver, aimed steadily at his head, but still, Fraser was on his feet in a split second, bringing his hands in front of him, cuffs dangling from one wrist. He made a break for it, punching Grant square in the face when he got in his way to freedom. He swung back the door and stars started to flash through his vision as darkness invaded it as well.

Hands going to his head, another stinging blow met the back of his shoulder's, sending him to his knees. One hand seized his hair, pulling rather hard and two more grabbed his hands, cuffing them in front of him, "Bad move Mountie," Grant hissed in his ear. He seemed to be the one with the grip on his hair.

"Let go of him Grant," the other man murmured and Grant obediantly let go, but it was obvious he wasn't too happy about it. Grant's partner grabbed Fraser with two hands and hefted him to his feet. Looking the now frazzled mountie in the eyes, he spoke, "Now... I'm a fair guy Mountie. You do something for me, I do something for you. I'll let you go to the bathroom. I'll even fix up that little head wound of yours, but..." he paused for a moment, letting it sink in, "You don't try anymore escape heroics, or I'll have to go at you with the baseball bat again. Don't make me do that, alright?"

"Understood," he muttered, raising his cuffed hands to his head, wincing. He rubbed his forehead slowly, before lowering them and looking at the man.

The man, who's name was still unknown, grabbed the chain of the handcuffs and half-dragged, half-led Fraser to the bathroom. He uncuffed the constable, shoved him into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Fraser quickly took care of his business, before looking out the small window that was undoubtably nailed shut, not only with one nail, but with several. The dirt and filth covering the window made it extremely difficult to see out of. From what he could see, black paper was covering his view from the outside. Swiping one finger down the dirt infested frame, he sniffed it, before licking a touch off his finger, dust and carbonates, along with a few other contanimants. He was in an industrial area.

Banging came impatiently on the door and he knew his short investigation was over, at least for that day. He opened the door slowly, letting his wrists be grabbed tightly and be cuffed behind his back once again. Soon he was back where he started, handcuffed to the pole.

Grant's partner held a small first-aid kit and started tending to the small gash that had been opened by the baseball bat. It felt like it was an old wound, not a new one. He now knew why he remembered so little of the original kidnapping, he'd mostly liking be hit in the head.

When the wound was crudely stitched, Grant smiled holding the roll of tape in his hands. "Shush now Mountie. Wouldn't want you to say anything that might get you in trouble, now would you?" He smoothed the tape over his mouth, "We'll be out for awhile, don't wait up."

Fraser blinked hard as they left, trying to clear the pain in his head and shoulders. He decided he would be compliant for now. When his head stopped pounding and his arms no longer felt like they were going to fall off, he would escape. He'd wait until they didn't expect it.

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Ray sat on the couch, staring at the TV, but not really watching it. Dief was lying half on him, head and paws of his lap as he absent-mindedly stroked the wolf's head and neck, "What are we going to do Dief?"

Diefenbaker looked up at him, seeing Ray's lips move in his peripheral vision. He whined, sniffing at his chest and nibbling on the button's of his shirt.

"I bet Thatcher's upset, Turnbull's probably bawling his eyes out. I don't know if I... if I could do that...just cry," he shrugged his shoulders, pushing Dief's muzzle gently away from his shirt. He looked over at a photo he'd framed on the coffee table. It was him, Fraser and Diefenbaker after a long, harrowing case that nearly cost him his life. Fraser had saved him that day and it killed him now that he had not saved his friend...his best friend.

"It just doesn't seem real Dief," he sighed, closing his eyes, but all he saw was Fraser's black, burnt face staring up at him. He would never get that image out of his mind. It wasn't fair. He knew life wasn't fair, but this was the unfairest of the unfair. Here he was with Fraser's wolf, and Fraser wasn't with him, he never would be again.

Tears welled up in his eyes and he buried his face into Dief's fur, "It isn't fair Dief," he mumbled as the tears soaked the animal's fur, "It isn't fair."

"Nothing's ever fair," a voice spoke to him and he lifted his head, looking at an aging man in a mountie's uniform, "but sitting there and crying isn't going to fix anything."

"Who're you?" Ray asked softly, not sure where this man had come from or how he got into his apartment. He grabbed his gun and aimed it his general direction, "What are you doing here?"

"That's not going to work on me son," he smiled at Ray, "You can't kill a dead man. I'm Constable Bob Fraser."

"I'm dreaming, that's it, I hafta be dreamin'," Ray shook his head and muttered, staring at his friend's father, but dropping the gun onto the coffee table, "Why are ya here? Why didn't Ben come himself?"

"Can't you guess why I'm here, why Benton isn't?" Fraser Sr asked, tilting his head to the side, "You're a bit slow on the uptake Yank. The wolf's been trying to tell you all day, but you're just not listening." He looked at the picture in the frame, which Dief promptly knocked over, nosing the picture anxously.

"Why don't you spell it out for me?" Ray snapped, leaning back into the couch.

"Look Yank, it's ll right in front of your eyes. Look what the wolf's doing," Fraser Sr pointed over at Diefenbaker.

"Greiving?" Ray shrugged, looking as Dief nosed the photograph. Ray picked it up and ran his thumb over the glass of the frame, "Why didn't Fraser come himself? Will ya at least tell me that? Is he mad at me for not saving him or something."

"You didn't not save him, not yet. He's not here because he can't come. I'm dead, I'm in the Borderlands, so I can, but he can't," he sighed, trying to impress the information upon him.

"So what? He's not in those... bored-whatchamacallits?" Ray asked, scratching his neck and getting annoyed with the way Fraser's father kept skirting around outright answering his question.

"No he's not," he muttered, "Think Yank for a moment, think hard."

"What he's not... he's not..." Ray thought over the thought running through his head and Bob Fraser nodded at him, encouraging him to spit it out, "He's not dead..."

Fraser Sr didn't answer, but Dief barked, running around in tight circle's excitedly.

"What, he hasta be dead. I found him... I watched it," Ray shook his head, unable to believe the astonishing truth, "If he ain't dead, where is he and who do I have to kick in the head?"

"I can't tell you that," he said softly, turning to walk away.

"Why can't you?! You're his father? Don't you want him to be okay?!" He yelled at the dead mountie's back and Bob Fraser turned around.

"Of course I do," he nodded his head shortly, "But even in death there are rules. I'm not allowed to meddle, you have to figure it out for yourself. I've done all the hinting I'm allowed to do, but I'm glad you're on the right track now."

"I'm glad too," Ray muttered, sounding truly amazed at the realization he was coming too. He closed his eyes, and there was only blackness, no burnt face staring at him. He opened his eyes again and Fraser's father was gone. Looking down at Dief, he muttered, "Let's go Dief. I think I might be nuts for trusting a wolf and a dead guy, but right now I don't much care. Fraser's alive."

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A/N: Please review!!!!!!!!


	3. Suspended From Duty

A/N: Well here's chapter three. My vacation is over now that I'm back from visiting my wonderful sister. You'd think me being back with regular computer access (basically being back home) would give you more regular updates... you'd be wrong. I'll be busy for the next few weeks, I've got to study for my driver's test and I'll be entering the work force soon. I'll be sure to try and update every week or two.

Here's chapter three, enjoy.

Nicole

Chapter Three: Suspended From Duty

"Lieutenant Welsh," Ray breathed hard as he entered the Lieutenant's office, "Lieutenant Welsh... I've... I've found something out." He'd run through the building helter-skelter until he'd reached the office and he was catching his breath.

"I told you to go home Vecchio, you're not working this case," Welsh told him firmly, pointing to the door.

"But Fraser's alive!" He told him, his eyes shining with excitement and relief, "He's alive. I know it. Whoever died there, it wasn't Fraser, it wasn't. Think about it, why would Fraser be wearing his uniform in the middle of a night if he wasn't working a case."

"Maybe he was working on something," Welsh answered him quietly, "Look, Ray... I know you don't want to admit what happened, but it did. End of story."

"If Fraser was working on something, I would've been with him," Ray protested, running a hand through his blond hair, "Just listen to me, he's alive."

"Lieutenant Welsh?" A female voice came from behind Ray and he whipped around, "I just got news... the DNA and dental records matched the records we had on file at the consulate."

"Inspector Thatcher," Welsh greeted formally, before turning to look at Ray, "There you go Vecchio, proof. Go home, get some rest, accept the truth."

"No," but it wasn't Ray speaking, it was the Inspector, "Ballistics also matched the bullet in Constable Fraser's chest to a gun standard issue in this precinct. Ray's gun shot my mountie. I want him arrested."

Welsh turned his head towards Ray, "Can you explain this Vecchio? Why your gun was the one that shot him?"

"It can't be," Ray said while shaking his head, "I had my gun on me... and Fraser's alive if you haven't been listening to me."

"Give me your shield and your gun Vecchio. You're suspended from duty until further notice," Welsh told him, staring hard at the detective, "I'm sorry Ray, but until you're cleared, you're not a police officer anymore."

He slammed his badge and gun on the desk, "Whatever Lieutenant," he spat as he whipped around to leave the office. Looking at Diefenbaker he snapped, "Come on Dief."

"No, the wolf will be staying at the consulate," Thatcher told him, not really believing Fraser's friend and partner had done this, but she couldn't ignore the evidence laid out in front of her face.

"Come Dief," he said again, ignoring her and Dief trotted after him. Outside of the Lieutenant's office, he looked around, everyone was staring at him angrily. It seemed news had traveled fast and no one believed in him. The other detectives' eyes bore into his back as he left the station and he rubbed his head hard.

Once he reached the parking lot, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the only one who he thought would help him. Who'd want to find out the truth about Fraser as much as he did, "Maggie?"

--------------------------------

Constable Maggie Mackenzie dabbed at her eyes. Her flight to Chicago was already booked. Only a week after she found out she had a brother, he was gone. The consulate had contacted her only an hour ago and told her what had happened. He'd been shot and then lit of fire while he was still alive.

The phone lay on the desk and she prayed for it to ring, for someone to call her and tell her it was all a mistake and her brother was alive.

The phone rang and she dove for it, bringing the receiver shakily up to her ear, "Constable Mackenzie."

"Maggie?" Ray's voice came to her over the phone and she felt her heart breaking all over again. Ben's friend Ray, who'd made her feel so important, something she hadn't felt since her husband had been alive. She missed him like hell when she got back to Canada and here she was talking to him again, but under the wrong circumstances.

"Ray? Hey," she murmured softly, "If you called to tell me about Ben, I already. The consulate called me an hour ago."

"Yeah, well they're wrong," Ray told her, "How fast can you get to Chicago? I'll pick you up at the airport if I can."

"Ray, what's going on? Constable Turnbull called me and told me Ben was dead. What's going on Ray?" She paused and remembered one little phrase he'd used, "and what do you mean they're wrong?"

"He's not dead, he's alive...his father and I guess he's yours too, told me. I know it sounds crazy, but Dief's been trying to tell me the same thing all day," Ray explained and realized how insane he must've sounded.

"You were able to see him, my dad?" She asked, sounding utterly confused, "And he told you that? Why the hell didn't he tell me."

"He really only hinted at-," he stopped for a second, "Does he talk to you often or something?"

"Doesn't matter right now," Maggie muttered, "My flight leaves in forty-five minutes. I'll be there ASAP Ray and me and you, we'll find him."

"Pitter patter let's get 'atter," Ray said quickly before adding, "Whatever they say about me, don't listen to 'em. They have it stuck in their head that I killed him. I think someone's trying to frame me or something. We have to find Frase, it'll clear my name and well we'll have him back."

"Right, I'll see you soon Ray," she told him softly. She swallowed thickly, "Goodbye."

"Bye Maggie," he replied and she heard the dial tone as he hung up.

"I wasn't allowed to tell you," her father's voice came from beside her and she whipped around.

"Geez Dad, don't startle me like that," she sighed, a hand running over her face, "You weren't allowed to tell me?"

"Rules Maggie," he explained with a shrug, "You can't even get away from them in death. If I could I'd give you the exact co-ordinates of his location I would, but I can't. Don't worry though, I know you'll find him. You won't give up, you're stubborn, like me and Benton. You don't give up and you won't give in."

"That's right," she nodded her head and threw her pack over one shoulder, "Now I've got a plane to catch Dad."

He watched his daughter run out the door, before thinking softy to himself, "I suppose I should check on Benton now."

---------------------------------------------------------

"Benton," Fraser Sr looked down at his son, handcuffed and gagged, "I really don't see how we're supposed to have a conversation this way. It might be slightly one-sided." Fraser gave his father a sideways look, as if to say that was obvious. "If it makes you feel better son, the Yank and Maggie have finally figured out you're not dead.

He couldn't exactly tell his father, but he did feel better knowing that piece of information. Now he just had to find a way to get out of here, or to get the two kidnappers to at least leave him alone until Ray and his sister got there.

The door opened and they both looked up, Grant and his partner slipped back into the room. "Hey Mountie, miss us much?" Grant snickered and his partner shook his head with a roll of his eyes.

"Give it up Grant," he sighed in a frustrated voice, "What's the big deal with taunting him anyways? This isn't about pleasure or having fun, this is about business."

"Why can't it be both? Just because I'm not like you Casey, doesn't mean I can't do the job right. What does it hurt?" Grant asked, throwing his arms out to emphasize his point.

"It's a waste of energy for one," Casey muttered, before raising his voice to try to impress something into his partner's head, "It's not the mountie we have a beef with. It's Detective Vecchio that we need to put our energy on. We've already given the mountie a few bruises and a bump on the head, that'll do for persuading the detective."

"I think you're getting soft," Grant accused softly, "I bet you're even going to back out of killing the mountie, aren't you? You can't let him go or Vecchio would be released from prison, besides he's seen our faces. What are you going to do? Keep him as a pet?"

"Get over yourself Grant," he spat back, "All I'm saying is focus on the prize, not momentary kicks. The mountie will be killed when the time comes, quickly and only because I have to. I don't like taking human lives when I don't have to. I just want that Goddamn information and Vecchio in prison for the rest of his natural life."

The conversation died there and Fraser stared at them still, digesting the information he'd just heard. This was definetly something personal, something against Ray, but it was also about this information Casey wanted.

"Ballistics came through," Casey murmured quietly, not looking at his partner, "Vecchio's been suspended until further notice. With the rest of the evidence we planted and the fact he ended up on the scene... it'll only be a matter of time until he's arrested."

"Here," Grant tossed him a digital camera, "Take the pictures, we might as well have them ready. Make sure there's a time stamp on them, to prove to Vecchio we still have him. He might think we took the pictures before shooting him and letting him burn."

"Personally I think he'd be willing to believe his friend was alive," Casey muttered, clicking a few times on the camera, the flash forcing Fraser to blink hard. "No one wants to believe someone they're friends with is dead. I think he'll jump at the idea."

"Since when are you an expert on the human condition?" Grant snapped at him, grabbing the camera and hooking it up to the computer. "Doesn't matter anyway, we'll be able to prove the mountie's alive and he'll tell us what we want to know. Then we kill the mountie. Simple enough plan, don't try to make it anymore complicated."

"Shut up," he retorted, getting angry, "and do your job."

Fraser looked at his father for a moment, not sure what to make of the kidnapper's arguing. It seemed to be a weakness in the two of them, but he wasn't sure how he was going to exploit that yet.

-------------------------------------------------

"He was there when Fraser was found, his gun was the one that shot him... I want him arrested," Thatcher insisted, looking at Welsh with hard eyes.

Lieutenant Welsh sighed, "I've got the warrant out Inspector Thatcher. We found his finger prints on the gasoline can used to spread the accelerant. I'm sure, however, that Detective Vecchio will have a suitable explanation for that when he gets here." He rubbed his temples tiredly, trying to wrap his head around how Ray could possibly have motive to kill Fraser.

"I want the man who killed my mountie caught," Thatcher snapped, before softening her voice, "I want the person who killed Fraser caught and put behind bars. Is that so bad?"

"No Inspector, it's not," Welsh told her softly, "I want whoever did it caught too. I'm just finding it difficult to believe one of my best officers committed this crime. If someone told you Fraser or Turnbull had killed someone, would you believe it?"

"It would be utter non-sense," Thatcher retorted immediately, "You know Turnbull is too...too...well you know, to commit a crime and Fraser, he is...was... well he couldn't even shoplift a candy bar."

"There you go. You trust them. I trust Detective Vecchio," Welsh explained and she just shook her head.

"I'm sorry Lieutenant, but all the evidence points toward your detective," Thatcher pointed out to him, "I don't want to believe it either. I don't want to believe someone Fraser trusted betrayed him. I don't know why Detective Vecchio might have done it, but that's what the evidence says and you can't ignore that."

"Which is why the warrant for his arrest has been put out," Welsh said with a long sigh, "We'll figure out what happened Inspector."

"We will, even if it's not what you want to hear," she said with a short nod. "Fraser was a good mountie, an excellent one. I want justice for this. We always get our man, even if he's a cop."


	4. Click Click Boom

A/N: Sorry about the delay from this chapter to the last. With summer vacation now coming to a close, things are getting busier. Good news, I got a job. Bad news, that and school (when it starts) will get in the way of regular updates.

Please enjoy chapter four!

* * *

**Chapter Four**: **Click Click Boom**

"Maggie!" Ray's voice caught her ears and she ran at him.

"Ray!" She dropped her pack and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. She looked up after a moment, "I missed you Ray."

"I missed you too Maggie," he murmured to her softly, giving her a tiny smile, "I believe we have a mountie to rescue. We've first got to find out what the hell this is all about and of course, where he is."

"Raymond Vecchio! This is Chicago PD, you're under arrest for the murder of Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police," Detective Harras informed him loudly, pulling him away from Constable Mackenzie. Slapping on the handcuffs he added, "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one, one will be appointed to you free of charge. Do you understand these rights?"

"Yeah I do," he mumbled, struggling a little bit as he was led away, "Keep looking Maggie."

She watched helplessly as he was taken away and she turned to find her father standing next to her once again, "This is not going to be easy, not at all. You feel like telling me where Ben is?"

"You know I can't," he said softly, wanting to tell her, but knowing he couldn't.

"I suppose I do," she sighed, staring off in the direction Ray had been dragged off in. It was just her looking for Fraser now. It was just her and Diefenbaker, who'd been left behind by the police officers. "It just scares me Dad. It's been twenty-four hours since Ben's body was supposedly found...and I can't help but feeling time is running out."

* * *

"You want to explain your fingerprints on the gas can used to spread the accelerant in the warehouse Vecchio?" Internal Affairs Bureau Agent Pillette asked him, leaning forward threateningly, "Why the bullet came from your gun? Why you just happened to be on-scene, and don't give me this 'the wolf brought me' bullshit."

"Diefenbaker did come and get me," Ray insisted, before adding, "It doesn't matter anyway, the man in the morgue is not Fraser. I thought it was at first, but even I know better now. It's not Fraser and while yer trying to pin this on me, Fraser's in some real trouble. Dief was trying to tell me that all yesterday!"

"The wolf told you Fraser's alive?" The agent asked incredulously, "What are you trying to do, set up an insanity plea?"

"No! He's really alive. If you just dug a little deeper ya'd see that too," he said, but realized it was useless, they wouldn't believe him, "I want my lawyer."

"What you really want to do is confess Vecchio. It's eating you up inside, I can see it," the agent said softly, trying to get Ray to open up, "What happened? Did you get in an argument, was it an accident? Maybe you two were after a suspect and it was friendly fire, but you got scared and tried to cover it up."

"I want," Ray told him firmly, "My lawyer."

"Very well then detective," the agent nodded softly and left the room.

Ray leaned forward, dropping his head into his hands, "This sucks," he murmured to himself, "How the hell am I supposed to find Fraser cooped up in prison."

"Beats me," Constable Bob Fraser was suddenly sitting in chair opposite of him, "You're going to have to figure out a way. Maybe set up a break out."

" Yeah...that would not go over very well, especially if this goes to trial. It would just make me look guilty. What I need is some way to get out of here without breaking the law. I guess I'll have to hope everything goes well with bail... and that someone bothers to bail me out," Ray told him seriously, "Is there anything ya can tell me about where Fraser is? Any miniscule hint you dead guys can get away with?"

"No Yank, I'm not allowed anymore hints," Fraser Sr told him with a shake of his head, "And you'd better hurry. Time may start to run out soon."

"Stop calling me Yank," Ray snapped, before digesting the last part of his comment, "What do you mean time is running out?"

"It just is Yank," he said seriously, before vanishing.

On the other side of the glass, Agent Pillette stared at Ray, "Maybe he is insane... he seemed to be having a rather serious conversation with a ghost. Or maybe he knows we're watching and is trying to make us think he's insane." 

* * *

Casey leaned toward Fraser and quickly ripped off the tape gagging him, "You hungry Mountie?"

"Yes I am," he said softly, looking around the room for a moment. His head was still throbbing from the day before and his shoulder's ached both from yesterdays blow and the position he'd been forced to sleep in.

"Don't worry about Grant, he's gone out for awhile," Casey told him with a small grin, "He likes to mock people and all that. He's just a bully, no big deal or anything."

"If he's a bully, what does that make you?" He asked, simply curiously, "You don't fit the criteria of most kidnappers."

"I'm simply a man trying to get justice," he explained, uncuffing one of Fraser's hands and fastening the free end to the pole so only one hand was useable, "Vecchio did me a bad turn. He belongs in prison, but first he has to tell me what I need to know."

"What exactly did Ray do," Fraser asked as he accepted the plastic plate Casey gave to him, "Thank you kindly." He added quietly as he set the plate on his lap.

"He killed my son during an arrest about ten years ago. I was out of the country at the time and couldn't do anything about it. My other son was arrested then too, and put on death row. He was executed last week," Casey told him bitterly, "I never saw the bastard, until a few weeks ago. Thats when I hired this man to help me. There was another man there that night, he testified against my son, putting him on death row and ended up getting off scott free. I can't find him anywhere, so that's what your friend is going to tell me, where that son-of-a-gun is."

"Ray won't," Fraser replied, before eating one of the french fries before him.

"You don't think he'll do what I want to try and save your life? You don't think he cares about you or what?" Casey questioned, "I was at the scene when he found the body we made out to be yours. He looked extremely upset."

"That doesn't change it, he won't do it. He won't subject some man to be your victim," Fraser answered him firmly with a shake of his head. He wanted to add that Ray probably wouldn't even know what the hell he was talking about since he wasn't the 'real' Ray Vecchio, but actually Ray Kowalski, but he couldn't risk blowing the real Ray's cover.

"In that case, I'll have to convince him," Casey snapped, his voice going cold and hard, "I didn't want to, but I will do what it takes. Besides I'm sure Grant would enjoy it. Do you think 'Ray' will let you suffer like that, for a criminal? You better hope he tells me, or it'll be one long painful ride for you. If he tells however, it's as simple as click click boom to the head and everything's over."

"Oh dear," Fraser whispered to himself quietly.

"Oh dear is right," Casey snapped again, "You'd better hope for your sake he does what I want." He lowered his voice, dropping the snappish tone, "I'm sorry to tell you this Mountie, but you are going to die. Whether it is quick and painless, or long and drawn out is up to Ray Vecchio. As a matter of fact, Grant's on his way to show him those photo's and gather our information right now."

He grabbed the now empty plate away from Fraser and set it on one of the tables. He kneeled back down to him, muttering, "Try anything and I'll kill you right now. I have pictures, that's enough proof. It might be more beneficial for me for you to be alive, but you are expendable, understand?"

"Understood," Fraser said softly and didn't put up a struggle as his hands were handcuffed behind him and to the pole once again. His back still hurt too much to try to escape and he knew if he did try, his injuries would make his recapture stupidly easy.

Another strip of tape came off the roll and covered Fraser's mouth, forcing him silent once again.

* * *

"Who're you?" Ray asked softly through the phone receiver as he stared pass the glass pane that seperated him from his visitor, "Are you my lawyer? I told them I wanted my lawyer."

"I'm not your lawyer Ray Vecchio," the man told him, removing a small package from his pocket. It was an envelope filled with what he thought was photographs, "but I am here with a proposition that could get you out of prison."

"I'm listening," Ray said quietly, leaning in curiously.

"Ten years ago you went in to serve arrest warrants on three young men, suspected of selling drugs and murder. One boy died, one boy was executed a week ago and one boy ended up off the grid as far as I can tell, but he stayed in contact with you. You're going to tell me where he is," the man told him in no uncertain terms, fiddling with the envelope in his hands and sporting a smirk.

"A) Uh no, B) That wouldn't get me out of jail and C) Even if it would get me out of jail, I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Ray told him, anger starting to fire up in his eyes, "What the hell is this about?"

"It's about this," the man snapped, shoving a photo against the pane of glass for Ray to look at, "He look familiar Detective? You don't tell us where the third guy is, your friend is going to die for real and painfully."

The photo was of Fraser, dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans, handcuffed to a pole. His mouth was covered with strip of duct tape and Ray could clearly make out the bruises on his face. He could also see the sizeable bump on his head, "Where's Fraser?"

"The mountie's safe for now," Grant snapped, cutting him off before he could add anything, "Don't tell anyone about my little visit or any of this information Vecchio, or things are going to get worse for the mountie. You think nice and hard about the info I've given you and try to remember where your other little friend is."

"Look, I don't know what yer talking about. I never busted three kids under those circumstances," Ray insisted, but the other man just shook his head.

"That won't bode well for the mountie Vecchio, " he said softly, taking the picture and putting it back in the envelope, "The next pictures I bring you will be worse. You tell me now and he'll be let go as is."

"I don't know," Ray repeated, his fist pounding once on the glass in front of him, "I'm sorry, but I don't know."

"That's too bad, ain't it," Grant muttered, standing up from the chair, "Remember, not a word to anyone, or things get even worse than what's about to happen next. Oh yeah, everything that happens to him is your call. You're the one who decided to hold out on us Vecchio."

"I don't know!" Ray yelled, but the phone receiver had been hung up and the man was walking away from him. His voice died down to a whisper, "Dammit I don't know."

"Don't know what Ray?" Maggie's voice asked him and he looked up to see her sitting down at the booth. "What did that guy want? I had to wait to come visit you."

"He's one of the men who have Fraser," he whispered quietly and she gasped, "Shhh, if I tell anyone, they'll kill him or something. For real this time. They want information from me, information I just don't have. They showed me pictures Maggie... I just don't like it. I wasn't able to tell them what they wanted to know, so they're going to hurt him again."

"Again?" She murmured softly and he nodded.

"Yeah, again," he breathed out the words and put his head in his hands.

* * *

Chapter Five: Kicked in the Head - Ray's released on bail and Fraser gets to make a phone call. 

--Queen of Cliffies--


	5. Kicked in the Head

A/N: Again I apologize for the wait. Today was my first day on the job, and boy was it tiring. My feet are absolutely killing me. Also school starts in six days, which might also cut into my writing time. My deepest apologies.

Also, there is a little...ummm... mountie bashing in this chapter. Nothing too serious...yet.

**Chapter Five**: Kicked in the Head

"It's nice to be out in the fresh air again," Ray muttered to Maggie, "Thanks for posting my bail. I'm surprised it happened so fast. I guess I got myself one hell of a good lawyer."

"You're kindly welcome," she murmured to him with a slight smile, before asking, "When do you think you'll be contacted about Ben again?"

"Soon I hope," he whispered softly, swallowing the lump in his throat, "The sooner they do, the sooner we can go rescue him. Or rather untie him so he can fight his way out. He tends to be good at that. I'm surprised he hasn't somehow gotten out and found us already. From what I saw in the picture, they cleared everything away from him."

"That's smart on their part," Maggie said quietly, sitting down on his couch, "Mounties are trained to use the simplest things to use for situations like that. They'd be smart to take the laces off his shoes."

"That's Fraser for ya," Ray muttered, sitting down next to her and leaning back into the soft cushion, "I really don't like sitting here and waiting. Makes me feel useless. There has to be something else I can do."

"They said they'd contact you, right?"

--------------------------------------------

The door opened wide and Grant came into the room, slamming it behind him, "Vecchio swears he had no idea what we're on about. Did seem worried about his buddy though. I think if we rough him up enough, Vecchio will talk. He's out on bail already."

"Baseball bat's there if you want it," Casey told him, turning towards the door, "You take care of it. I've never been particularly good at hurting people. Just make sure he's alive when you're done with him. He's no good to us dead."

"Got it Case," Grant nodded and waiting impatiently for Casey to leave the room. He looked at Fraser and grinned, "And now the fun begins." He knelt down and unlocked the handcuffs only long enough so Fraser was no longer fastened to the pole. Pulling him into the middle of the room, he let him sit there silently for a moment.

He lifted the bat up, the mountie watching his every move, he swung it at his chest, knocking Fraser full onto his back. It came down again, striking his shoulder and wrenching it out of its socket. Kicking out frantically at Grant's feet, Fraser tried to pull himself away. His foot connected with Grant's ankle knocking him over, only to have the man fall on top of him.

Pain was jolting up and down his arm like an electric current and Grant's weight on top of him only seemed to make it worse. He struggled out from under the other man, feeling a grip tightly form around his ankle, before pulling him back towards his attacker. A fist met hard with his chin and he kicked out again, seeing Grant scamper to his feet in front of him.

The first kick stunned him, knocking the breath out of his body, the second hit his dislocated shoulder and a muffled groan came from underneath the duct tape. Fraser pressed his eyes closed, trying vainly to clear his head of the pain, he needed to be able to think of a plan to fight back.

He reopened his eyes just in time to see Grant's boot heading for his head. As the blow hit, all thoughts momentarily left his head, and even as they came back, they were a bit muddled. All he could think about was the irony. Ray loved to say he was going to kick someone in the head. 'I have to remember' he thought fuzzily, 'to tell Ray not to ever do that.' Being kicked in the head was just not a good experience.

He braced himself for the next blow, but it never came. Hands grabbed at his arms, and painfully dragged him back to the pole, handcuffing him back to it. Grant and Casey spoke in hushed tones for a moment, but he was able to pick up most of the conversation anyways. They wanted him to talk to Ray, convince him to tell them what they wanted to know.

"Alright Mountie, we're going to let you talk to Vecchio. It's up to you to convince him to tell us the truth, else it only gets worse from here," Grant told him, grinning slightly. He took out his cell phone and dialled the number pressing it against Fraser's ear, "Go ahead now."

"Vecchio," Ray's voice spoke quietly into the phone.

"Constable Benton Fraser," Fraser answered back softly, "Ray it's me."

"Fraser? That really you?" Ray asked incredulously and Fraser could tell he was being put on speaker-phone.

"Yes Ray, it is," Fraser assured him quietly, sucking in a breath as a hand put pressure on his shoulder, "These men seem to want some information from you Ray. They are quite determined to get said information."

"Ben?" A female voice met his ears and he immediately recognized his half-sister's voice, "Ben are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he reassured her quietly, before turning his attention to Ray as the hand increased it's pressure, "They really want that information."

"I know, only I don't have it Frase," Ray said despondently, "I've tried to tell them, but they won't listen. I can't exactly... well you know. Did you know they've set me up, for your 'murder'?"

"It's been mentioned," Fraser told him softly, "Keep Maggie safe and keep her away from factories and the like. She's not used to them and the air quality in the surrounding areas."

"What are you talking about?" It was Maggie this time, "Ben, what are you trying to say?"

The phone was taken away from him and he heard Grant speak frankly to Ray, "Look Vecchio, you tell us what we want to know and your friend gets to live. It's that simple. If not, well you can have fun in prison for the rest of your natural life. Your little girlfriend will have to visit you there and won't that be a shame."

As far as Fraser could hear, the only thing coming from Ray's end was a string of loud curses and the insisting that he had no such information. Grant snapped the phone shut and looked at his partner, "Casey, give me the camera. I think Vecchio needs to see what his friend looks like now."

-----------------------------------------------

"Did the tape recorder catch it all?" Maggie asked, watching anxiously as Ray fiddled with his recorder.

"I think so," Ray told her with a short nod, "I don't know who we can tell though. My best guess is these guys have been watching me. They'll find out if we get too loose with what we know. What do you think?"

"Your superior, and Ben's," Maggie said after a moment of thought, "They'll know how important it is to keep this a secret until we have Ben back. Some of the others might be a little too loose-lipped to tell them about it. I'm afraid for my brother Ray."

"I know," he mumbled softly, "Come on, we'll show this to Welsh first. He can call the Ice Queen in and tell her. Frankly I think she's a little too willing to believe I killed Fraser."

"She just cares about him," Maggie gave him a small smile as they left his apartment, "Whether that's just as a friend, an subordinate or otherwise. I think she just wants the people who've put this together behind bars. Whether that's you or not."

"Well at least now she'll know it's not," he muttered in a quiet tone, "Let's just hope Welsh and her stop thinking I'm some crazy maniac Mountie killer. Sure there are times when I want to, but that's only when he frustrates me and I wouldn't actually do it."

"Well I know that and you know that, now lets go make sure they know that," she told him with a small smile. She looped an arm around his shoulders and leaned in to give him a soft kiss on the cheek.

He opened the passenger's door to his GTO for her and she grinned at him slightly, so he added with a smirk, "Uh oh, Fraser's rubbing off on me."

"Come on and drive Casanova," she smirked back for a moment, but it soon turned down into a frown, "Hurry Ray."

"Don't worry Maggie, I'm just as worried as you are," he bit his lip as he climbed into the car himself. He started the engine and began the drive to the precinct. Usually he thought he lived just close enough to the station, but now it seemed impossibly far away.

"He's my brother Ray," she told him simply, "Somehow I don't think you're quite as worried as I am. I don't want to have gained a brother only to lose him... that would be too much."

"Okay, I get it," he nodded, his eyes staring at the road ahead of him.

--------------------------------------------------

"Lieutenant?" Ray poked his head into Welsh's office, "There's something you need to see."

"Look Vecchio, you shouldn't be here. You should be at home, or with your lawyer." Welsh told him seriously, but Ray walked the rest of the way into the office anyways, Maggie following him inside.

He set the tape recorder on his desk, not speaking and press rewind for a moment, before pressing play, "Just listen, alright Lieutenant."

_"Vecchio."_

_"Constable Benton Fraser. Ray it's me."_

_"Fraser? That really you?" _

_"Yes Ray, it is." There was a breath of pain before the voice continued, "These men seem to want some information from you Ray. They are quite determined to get said information."_

Ray paused the tape and looked expectantly at his superior, "Do you believe me now?"

"Ray, I never thought you killed Fraser. I thought he was dead, but I never thought you killed him. I had to go with the evidence though. Unfortunately Ray, what you have won't be enough to prove he's alive," Welsh spoke quietly, "There's nothing that identifies specifics of the case. Someone could argue it was taped before he was killed. It mightn't even get you off the hook."

Ray pressed play again and let the rest of the tape play out, "Is that enough?"

"Yes I believe it is," Welsh nodded, thinking seriously, "What information is it that they want?"

"Something from a case from ten years ago. Nothing I would know about, but I am supposed to know about it. They want the location of a guy who's off the grid. He testified in a death penalty case, one Ray Vecchio closed," Ray muttered, shaking his head.

"Ben said something that bothers me," Maggie interrupted them, frowning deeply, "He said to keep me away from factories, something about air quality."

"He's probably just worried about you," Ray mumbled with a shrug.

"No," she shook her head thinking, "You think maybe he's in an area with poor air quality?"

"That's all of Chicago," Ray reminded her, before it sank in, "Factories... yer right, he's near a factory." He chewed on his lower lip and faced his lieutenant, "We can't very many people. They said they were watchin' me. They'll know if too many people find out what's goin' on."

"We figured if just you and Inspector Thatcher knew, it would suffice in manpower to rescue Ben, without a leak, Sir" Maggie added helpfully, thinking seriously, she added, "Before his kidnappers do anything else to him."

Welsh rubbed his temples tiredly, "Alright, I'll make the call and get her down here. Somehow I don't think she'll believe it until she hears it herself." He sighed, "mounties..." He looked at Maggie, "No offence Constable."

She gave him a small smile, "Oh none taken Sir."

-----------------------

A/N: A little shorter than the last one, but also harder to write. I wasn't quite happy with a few parts, but I wasn't sure how to improve them. If any of you have any ideas, let me know please.

Chapter Six: Sick of This - Thatcher finds out the truth. Plus more friction between our two, mountie kidnapping, 'friends'.

Thank you kindly

-Queen of Cliffies-


	6. Sick of This

A/N: Another chapter for ya! I hope you all like it. Please review, I love them! They're what keep me writing!

Chapter Six: Sick Of This

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"Inspector Thatcher," Lieutenant Welsh greeted the RCMP officer with a brief nod of his head, "Thank you for coming down on such short notice."

"I hope this had something to do with putting Constable Fraser's killer," she shot a withering glance at Ray, "in prison for a long time."

"Inspector, Detective Vecchio has provided me with evidence that not only clears him, but proves that Constable Fraser is, in fact, still alive," Welsh informed her and motioned towards Ray as he spoke the detective's name.

"And you believe him?" She scoffed, hard brown eyes glaring at the afore-mentioned detective.

"The evidence is convincing," he told her with a nod, and turned to Ray, "Vecchio, play the tape."

Ray pressed Play and as soon as Thatcher heard Fraser's voice she hastened to listen intently. When it was over, her eyes hadn't softened much towards Ray, "So in effect, it's still his fault."

"Inspector Thatcher, Ma'am. I know for a fact that Ray would never purposely endanger my brother," Maggie spoke up, breaking her silence to defend her friend. "Ma'am, this isn't his fault."

"Ya think ya'd just be happy he's alive," Ray muttered under his breath, before speaking up, "We think he's in an industrial area, near factories and whatnot."

"Who do you have looking and please tell me it's not that Flooey and Rewey pair," she stared straight at Welsh, "They don't seem like the brightest of the bunch."

"No one's out yet, we only just found out," Welsh told her quietly, before correcting, "And Huey and Dewey won't be privy to the particulars of this case. Detective Veccho thinks it will be more beneficial that the fact he's no longer under suspect doesn't get out, along with the fact Constable Fraser's alive."

"I have an idea," Ray interrupted the conversation, "They're watchin' me right? So they're going to contact me again. They're probably going to come see me next time. So someone watches my apartment or whatever and they follow them. They'll lead us straight to Fraser."

"Simple enough," Welsh commented with a little bit of a sigh, "Inspector Thatcher, Constable Mackenzie and I will watch your apartment in shifts. If anyone is sighted, don't do anything until they leave, then I want immediate contact on direction and speed. Follow them, but not too closely, understand?"

"Understood Sir," was Maggie's prompt reply and Thatcher nodded her head curtly in agreement.

"Guess I should go home then huh," Ray muttered, running a hand through his spiked up 'experimental' hair.

"Yes Vecchio," Welsh nodded his head affirmatively, "Not right yet, we need to map out the locations around your house so we're not seen. Think you can describe it to us?"

"Depends how much detail ya need," Ray shrugged his shoulders, he's never really played close attention to the layout of his neighborhood. He just knew how to get in and out of it, no particulars, not that he could remember on command anyway.

Maggie on the other hand had grabbed a piece of paper and pencil from the Lieutenant's desk and began to sketch silently, her face set in concentration. After a few moments she looked up at Welsh, seeming to remember something, "Thank you kindly for the pencil and paper Sir." Another moment passed and she laid the paper on the desk, a bird's eye view of Ray's neighborhood, "Is that done well enough?"

"Yes Constable," was Welsh's slightly astonished answer.

"If not a little creepy," Ray added with a bit of a grin.

Maggie seemed to take it seriously, "I have a good memory for detail Ray."

"I know," Ray was still smirking, "You're a _lot_ like Fraser. A lot."

She smiled for a moment, wondering if he was being sarcastic or truly paying her a compliment. Just to be careful, she said as politely as ever, "Why thank you Ray."

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"What are you doing here? I thought I told you to go give Vecchio those pictures?" Casey snapped as Grant walked calmly into the room, the envelope with the pictures in it still in his hands.

"Relax Casey," Grant muttered with a roll of his eyes, "You're so uptight. He was at the police station, probably being questioned or whatever. I couldn't give them to him there, it would have been plain stupid."

"You're plain stupid," Casey hissed, snatching the envelope out of his hands, "You want something done, you have to do it yourself. Why couldn't you have waited for him to leave?"

"I didn't think-"

"That much is obvious," he spat out in disgust. "I'll go later myself. You'll start here and watch the mountie."

"I'm not a child," Grant's face twitched angrily.

"Then stop acting like one," Casey snapped irritably, "You know what, just forget it, alright Grant? You're on my pay role. You do as I say, that's how it works."

"Well then I quit," Grant raised his voice loudly, "I quit! I've had enough of you. My God I don't know why I ever said yes in the first place. My job is killing, not babysitting stupid ass Canadians. I'm sick of this and I'm sick of you!"

"Then go, but if you tell anybody, I'll have you killed," Casey hissed softly, taking a menacing step forward, "Don't forget I have connections. If they can lead me to you, they can lead me to people better than you. Don't forget that."

"I'm not afraid of you," Grant muttered, turning his back on his now ex-partner, stalking out of the room. He paused at the door, looking back at Fraser, "Been nice knowing ya mountie, see ya 'round..." he took a second to laugh at his own bad joke, "Or maybe not."

"Really irritating, ain't he?" Casey commented quietly and Fraser looked around, realizing he was talking to him. He really just didn't expect his kidnapper to start talking to him like they were old friends.

"His joke was rather distasteful," he said carefully, thinking it best to just agree with whatever Casey told him.

"Was, wasn't it?" Casey grinned a little, looking at the envelope, "Never liked him the moment I saw him. Don't know why I ever hired him in the first place."

"Why are you telling me this?" Fraser asked in his ever polite manner.

"I don't have anyone else to talk to now do I?" He pointed out, "And neither do you."

"Why do people always do that? Why do they say that son? It's as if I don't even exist," Fraser Sr puffed out his chest indignantly, "Imagine the nerve of some people."

"He can't see you," Fraser muttered quietly, the tiniest annoyed at his father's tendency to ignore the fact he was dead.

"What was the Mountie?" Casey asked, glaring at him suspiciously.

"He can't... free you," Fraser pulled the phrase out of nowhere, not even sure where he was going with it.

"I'm not the one who needs freeing here mountie," Casey was sure to remind him, "I'm free as a bird, you however, are a different story."

"I'm talking about the grief for your sons," he said, still racking his brain, thinking as quickly as his throbbing head could handle. "Causing Ray grief... putting him in prison, it will not take away your grief. In the end, you'll probably find it will make it worse. You've become the bad guy in this situation."

"As you can probably see," Casey said with a shrug of his shoulders, "That I don't much care. Do you really think I'm going to stick around after I've lost all my family and have become a murderer. I thought you would have figured it out by now, I'm going to end my grief as soon as I kill the boy who testified against mine."

"When Ray doesn't tell you where he is? What about then?" Fraser questioned softly, "Will you just keep searching?"

"If he doesn't tell me," Casey explained calmly, "You'll die together. If he doesn't tell me, you'll both die the way the man Grant put in your place did. You heard about that, didn't you?"

"He was shot and lit on fire, yes I remember," Fraser told him, not wanting to think about the fate that he now knew was no less than certain. Ray would not tell Casey what he wanted to know, he couldn't even if he wanted to.

"Well then you better hope and pray he tells me," Casey stated, still as calm as ever, "Now I have to go drop off some photographs, so I'll be gone for awhile. You realize what this means?"

"Yes, if you must," Fraser sighed, he knew he had no choice in the matter. There was an irritating screech as the tape was ripped off the roll. Casey placed it over his mouth, before scooping up the pictures and slipping out the door.

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Now he was pissed off. He could see the hidden vehicles, no matter how well hidden they were, and while he didn't recognize the woman in the car, he remembered the description Grant had given him of the woman who'd visited Vecchio in prison. She fitted the description to a 'T'.

He slammed the car into the parking space, putting into park roughly and jumped out of the vehicle. It did not take him long to get to Vecchio's apartment on the second floor. Pounding on the door, he waited for an answer.

"Yello?" A voice asked through the door, "Who's there?"

"You want to talk to me Vecchio," he told him through clenched teeth, "Otherwise I might get angry." He wasn't getting angry, no, he was filled with rage that the man had not followed his instructions.

Ray opened the door, muttering, "Come in."

"Oh no," he hissed, grabbing him by the shirt, "You're coming out." Casey shoved him hard against the wall, pushing the barrel of his handgun into his back, before tugging Ray's own gun from his holster. "You shouldn't have told anyone Vecchio."

"I didn't tell anyone," Ray lied quickly, "I have no idea what yer talking 'bout."

"Don't bullshit me Vecchio," Casey muttered, pushing him roughly down the hall, "I saw your little girlfriend in the vehicle across the street, staking out the place. She was waiting for me, wasn't she?"

"No," Ray told him, still lying desperately through his teeth, "She's probably staking me out, she's Fraser's sister. She thinks I killed him for Christ's sakes. She even accused me while I was still in prison."

"She posted your bail," Casey snapped at him, "I'm not stupid Vecchio. You're going to have to change that assumption."

"She probably only did it so she has a chance to kill me," Ray pulled at every possible answer shooting around in his head.

"Maggie, right? The one Fraser told you to take care of? I said I'm not stupid Vecchio," Casey muttered, thinking to himself silently, Vecchio didn't know that Grant was no longer in on it and he didn't need to, "Now you'll come quietly or my partner will kill the mountie. You got it?"

"Yeah yeah, I got it," he muttered back, grunting a little as he was shoved forward.

"Now you're going to have to make sure you're little girlfriend doesn't call anyone or follow us, can you do that Vecchio? Otherwise I'm going to have to kill her," Casey whispered calmly, "Call her or something."

"Yeah, whatever," he mumbled, pulling out his cell phone and dialed a number, "Maggie?"

"Yes Ray?" She asked, "I saw you come out of your apartment with some guy, what's going on? Shall I follow you?"

"No that's okay, it's not the guy that came to the prison with the pictures," Ray told her quietly, "It's actually this guy I know from way back. I should be back in fifteen minutes, just keep an eye on my apartment for me, okay?"

"Ray are you in trouble?" She questioned, making sure to give him a question that only needed a yes or no answer.

"No Maggie, don't worry. I'll be back in fifteen minutes, just watch the apartment, alright?" He spoke as calmly as he could muster into the phone and waited for her reply.

"Well... alright Ray. I don't feel right about this, but alright," she replied quietly, "Take care Ray."

"I will, you too Maggie," he hung up the phone on her and looked up at Casey, "Good enough?"

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A/N: I'm not ecstatic with the way this chapter turned out, but I had to give you guys something.

Chapter Seven: Untitled for now - Don't know for sure what's happening in it yet... but Ray will get to see Fraser!

Nicole


	7. Two Kinds Of Duty

A/N: May not be the greatest, just decided to write out of nowhere and this is what came to me. I'm sorry if parts seem a little bit rushed, but I had some trouble getting from one part to another. On a better note (never sure if it's really a good thing or not for ya) I left you with a cliffie.

Chapter Seven: Two Kinds of Duty

"Lieutenant Welsh? Sir?" Maggie asked through the phone she had on loan from one of Welsh's detectives, "Ray had left his apartment with an unknown male. He called me and asked me not to follow, but it feels..."

"Hinky?" He finished for her and upon her silence, he clarified, "It doesn't feel right."

"Yes sir," she told him, sounding uneasy. "I'm following them now, not closely however. I'm afraid that whoever this man is, could injure Ray if he knew I was following them."

"That could very well be," Welsh commented quietly, "Where are you now and what direction are you going?"

"That last street sign I saw said Rollins Avenue," she told him after a moment of thinking, "And I believe I'm driving 13 degrees due east southeast. Heading towards an industrial part of the city as far as I can tell."

"What is it with you mounties? Do you have some kind of sixth sense for direction?" Welsh asked incredulously.

"Well sir, some of us may. I don't know... I just use my compass," she continued driving, striving not to lose the truck Ray had been unceremoniously shoved into. "Sir, will you and Inspector Thatcher be accompanying me?"

"Yes Constable, just follow them for now. Don't leave your vehicle until we meet up with you," Welsh ordered quickly, already signaling to Elaine, who'd only just been notified of Fraser's state of being, to call the Inspector. "Is that clear Constable?"

"Perfectly clear Sir," she answered promptly, moving in and out of traffic, "Goodbye Sir."

"Goodbye Constable and be careful," he told her before hanging up.

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"Get out," Casey hissed, grabbing him roughly by his collar, "Come on, ya wanna see your friend doncha?" He jabbed his gun into Ray's back, forcing him forward into the dingy and mostly vacant apartment building.

"I'm movin', I'm movin'," Ray muttered, hands up slightly in acquiescence. He stumbled into the apartment and his eyes immediately found his friend, "Fraser! Buddy you okay?"

Fraser seemed to think about it for a moment and upon deciding that being alive was okay enough for him, he nodded silently.

"Man Frase, you don't look okay," Ray told him, still being held onto tightly by the collar with that damn gun pressed behind his ear. He took a moment to take in his friend's appearance. 'He looks like shit' was his first thought. One side of his head was plastered with still drying blood, a dark bruise forming on his face in the shape of a handprint and one shoulder looked significantly larger than the other.

"He's fine," Casey hissed pushing him forward, looking disgusted at having to even touch him, "No thanks to you." He jerked his head towards Ray's belt, "Put your handcuffs to use over by your buddy Detective. Go on, don't be shy."

If looks could kill, their trouble would be over and Casey would have just died on the spot with the glare Ray shot at him. Still, Ray complied reluctantly, handcuffing himself beside Fraser, "Glad yer... ya know, alive."

'Me too,' Fraser thought to himself, although he was not quite sure how long he was going to stay that way.

"Alright Vecchio, where the hell is he?" Casey hissed, crouching down in front of him, "Tell me where he is and I'll let the both of you go right now. Does that sound like a deal?"

"Somehow I really don't believe ya'd hold up to yer end," Ray muttered wryly, earning himself a solid fist to the face, "Oh ya, now I'm just gonna spill my guts..."

"I don't like your attitude," Casey hissed at him angrily.

"What am I, you're son or something?" Ray shook his head as he spat it out and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Fraser wince inwardly. He looked back over at Casey, who's face was quickly growing red with anger. "Hey look, whatever I said that upse-" He was cut off when all the breath was sucked out of his lungs.

"My boys," Casey snapped, dealing another blow, "are dead because of you."

"Look I don't know what yer talking about," Ray insisted when he regained his breath slowly, "I really don't."

"Maybe if I hurt your mountie friend you'd be a little more willing to talk? What do you think mountie?" Casey ripped off the tape from Fraser's mouth.

"Don't tell him Ray," Fraser got out quickly, "Don't tell him. He's going to kill us either way."

"Shut up," Casey snapped, before addressing Ray, "He is right you know." He was smiling now, "but whether it's quick or drawn out, is up to you Vecchio."

"I. Don't. Know," Ray said slowly, trying to drive that fact into the man's skull, "How many times do I have to say it?"

"Alright, what should I shoot first?" Casey asked, pointing the gun at Fraser, "Shoulder?" He pressed the barrel against Fraser's injured shoulder, watching Ray wince at his friend's attempt to hide the pain of the action, "Kneecap?" He moved the gun down to his knee, "Temple?" He put the barrel to his temple, screwing it sideways so it twisted up the skin a little, "Hurry up Vecchio, I don't have all day."

"Alright, alright," Ray placated, "I'll tell ya, but ya have to promise to let him go. You can kill me or whatever, I don't care. Ya just gotta let him go."

"Ray," Fraser interjected but Ray ignored him.

"Do we have a deal Mr. Scumbag?" Ray asked Casey, still glaring angrily.

"Ray," Fraser tried to interject again, but to no avail. Neither of them were listening to him.

"How's the Yank supposed to tell him something he doesn't know?" His father asked him, looking on curiously.

"What did I say about calling me 'the Yank'?" Ray muttered to Fraser's father, "Is it that hard to learn my name. Ray, come on, say it with me now... Raaaay."

Casey tapped the gun against Fraser's head, beckoning their attention again, "Okay, you're both insane... I get that. Now just tell me where he is. Tell me where he is and I'll let him," he tapped the gun against Fraser's head again, "go."

"Alright Mr. Scumbag," Ray shrugged for a moment, "Hell. He died two years ago."

"You're lying to me," He hissed, his finger tightening around the trigger, and he repeated himself, "You're lying to me."

"Why the hell would I lie?" Ray protested, although, in truth he was lying, "You've got the motive and opportunity to kill my best friend. You really think I'm gonna lie to you?"

"Best friend Ray? I wasn't aware," Fraser said despite himself.

"Not like it matters now Frase," Ray reminded him with a shake of his head, "Guy's gonna kill us if ya haven't forgetten."

Casey moved away from them, grabbing a red jerry can and pouring the liquid inside it out over the floor. When it was empty, he moved onto the next until three of them were emptied around the apartment. What seemed off, was the fact none of the gasoline was poured anywhere near them, always several feet away. He grabbed the last one, making sure to dump it directly over his captive's heads. "You've got one last chance Vecchio."

"When I meet him, I'm going to kill him," Ray muttered to himself as gasoline dripped off his flattened hair and onto his face.

"Ray," Fraser tried to stop him from continuing, "Ray stop."

"What? It's his fault isn't it?" Ray snapped, "I never should have took this job. I wouldn't be in this mess and neither would you probably. Ya'd still be in Canada somewhere, living it up in the ice and snow."

"Ray," he lowered his voice, "Ray, you've got to stop. You'll put him in danger."

"Like he hasn't already done that to us Fraser?! I mean we're about to be burnt freakin' alive!" Ray shook his head and feel silent, teeth clenched together in anger. He had, at the moment, no love for Fraser's old partner.

"What are you talking about?" Casey asked, flicking the lighter threateningly, "What?"

"Nothing, we're insane, remember?" He muttered to Fraser's satisfaction. "Just forget it. You're little friend guy or whatever you wanted to find is dead, you're going to kill us, end of story."

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"Maggie, you've got to go in there." Fraser Sr told his daughter after appearing in her rental car, "There's not much time."

"I was given strict orders to wait for my superiors Dad," Maggie reminded him quietly, keeping a firm eye on the apartment building, "Inspector Thatcher and Lieutenant Welsh should be here any moment. I'm not armed, I can't just waltz in there."

"He's going to kill them Maggie," Fraser Sr insisted, "There's two kinds of duty. There's duty Maggie, and then there's duty."

"What are you going on about now?" She asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"There's duty to your job, and there's duty to your family," he advised quietly, "Don't wait until you're dead like I did, to realize which one is more important." He looked down in what looked like shame.

"Alright Dad," she climbed out of the car, making sure to tuck her standard issue gun into her holster.

"I thought you said you weren't armed?" He asked and she shrugged.

"It's not loaded, but they don't need to know that," she managed a smile and jogged into the building. She could hear yelling, but finding out behind which door it was coming from was the difficult part. She listened intently for a moment, determining it was coming from the third door on the left. As she approached it, it opened, the man who'd taken Ray slipping out.

He recognized her immediately, and aimed his gun, "You're too late Maggie."

Her own gun was in her hand, pointed firmly in his direction, "What are you talking about?"

"It's going to take only about three more minutes for the fire to reach them. I wanted to give them some time to think about it," He told her, finger tight on the trigger, "Think you can save them? Vecchio doesn't deserve to be saved."

He pushed passed her, as she went for the door. The doorknob wouldn't budge, the man she'd let go had locked it. Lifting her leg without a moment's hesitation she kicked it open, "Ben? Ray?"

"Maggie, get out of here!" Ray yelled at her from behind a wall of fire, "Just go."

"Gotta do my duty Ray," she called back to him. In the fire, she could see her father's proud face. She looked around for a moment, a blanket catching her eye. Grabbing it, she dashed into the bathroom, the only room not blocked by flames and ran it under the shower, her fully clothed self included. When she rushed back out into the living room area, she noticed the fire had moved closer to Ray and Benton.

Wrapping the sodden cloth around her, she ran through the fire, "We've got to go."

"Keys." Ray commented and she knelt down and struggled to release the handcuffs holding him. She uncuffed Fraser as Ray was scrambling to his feet, "Alright... there's no way Fraser and me are getting through there."

"I don't think I'm going anywhere easily," Fraser murmured as his sister helped him to his feet, hissing a little as she jostled his shoulder accidentally.

"There's always the fire escape," she jerked her head over to the window.

"So aptly named," Ray muttered, already trying to force the window open, "It's been painted over, it won't budge. Who paints over the window leading to the fire escape? Oh yeah, kidnappers who want you to burn to death."

"My knife Ray," she passed it to him and he ran the blade along the chipped paint and struggled with the window again.

"The fire's getting awfully close," Fraser found it pertinent to remind them, wincing as the heat of the room steadily increased. He glanced back, and looked back at Ray, "Quite close."

"You'll need this more than me," Maggie muttered, grabbing the wet blanket and wrapping it around his shoulders gently, "Hopefully it'll hold off the flames a little longer." It might, she knew, but only by a few precious seconds.

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Chapter Eight -Failure to Cooperate - Thatcher and Welsh show up at the apartment building... finally. Will they find any bodies inside? Oh yes and IAB is still being an ass.

Ah yes, please review! Makes me happy ya know.


	8. Failure To Cooperate

A/N: I have nothing against Canadians (am one) or Americans (dated one). I just thought some of the stuff would make a little humor in a serious situation. Blame my co-auther of this chapter... Ashley I.

Oh and I blame the wait on the fact that my town has gone on the dramatics lately. Was a lockdown in school, with a huge fight involving like almost half the students... started over a thrown gummy bear... It's so insane I kind of hardly believe that's what caused it. I just kind of think it's kind of lame really... Oh well, the school got on the front page of the district newspaper anyways. Oh yeah, the headline was 'One Student Injured In High School Brawl'...

Sad thing it's the most exciting thing to happen in Mdot since forever.

**Chapter Eight: Failure to Cooperate**

"Oh damn," Welsh muttered to himself as he pulled up beside the vehicle Constable Mackenzie was supposed to be in, "I though you mounties always listened to orders."

"That might have something to do with it," Inspector Thatcher pointed towards the smoke seeping out of the windows of one of the apartments. "Call the fire department."

"Already on it," he muttered, pulling out his cell phone and dialing the number. He liked to think he was on top of modern day technology with his state of the art phone. Truth be told, it got a little heavy sometimes. He wished they could make the damn things smaller.

"There they are!" Thatcher announced, hurrying out of the vehicle when she caught a flash of red in the window by the fire escape.

"Then why aren't they coming out?" Welsh posed the question.

"They must be stuck," she sounded frustrated with having to point out the obvious, "Well come on."

"I'm coming," he muttered, throwing his phone back lightly into the car, knowing the 'lunk of junk' would only slow him down. That's when he realized the window was not down, and the phone bounced to the ground. Ignoring it, he went walk by it, only to end up tripping over it.

"What are you doing?" Thatcher hissed, muttering under her breath about the idiocy of Americans. "Get up, we don't have much time Lieutenant. The fire could reach them at any moment."

"Yes, because I just did that on purpose," he muttered back, climbing quickly to his feet.

"We don't have time for this," she snapped irritably as she headed for the fire escape as quickly as she could. She made it to the window of the apartment, locking eyes with Ray for a quick moment. Her eyes then strayed to her subordinate, before getting back to the matter at hand, "Lieutenant, give me a hand with this window."

Ray struggled to open the window from the inside, as Thatcher and Welsh struggled with the outside, before it sprang open, "Ray hurry!" Maggie yelled, coughing through the smoke.

"Fraser goes first," Ray muttered softly, helping her bring him forward.

"No," Fraser shook his head weakly, "It only takes an extra second to be courteous Ray. Ladies first."

"We don't have an extra second," he reminded his friend in frustration, "Just go alright. Be all polite or what not and do what I tell you." He grumbled something else unintelligibly as he helped his friend climb out the window where Thatcher and Welsh were waiting to take over. "Alright Maggie, your turn."

"Ray, you're covered in gasoline, the fire catches you and you're gone. You go first, I've got a better chance here," she told him, giving him a slight push forward, "As you previously mentioned, we don't have the time to argue. I'm drenched in water, I'll be fine."

He looked at her for a second, seeing determination in her eyes that he often saw in Fraser's when the mountie would not give up and knew the futility of trying to argue with her. "Alright, alright," he raised his hands in semblance of surrender, before climbing out the window, "Not get out 'ere."

She lifted her leg and saw that the pant leg was flaming slightly, "Oh dear." She took a look at Welsh, "Sir, would you mind. I'm afraid if Ray tried to help he'd catch fire."

"How about you get out here before more than just your pant leg is one fire," Ray muttered, grabbing her arm and pulling her out, before slamming down the window.

After putting out Maggie's pant leg, they made their way down the fire escape. Whenever either Ray or Fraser moved, their ribs would protest loudly and Fraser's head was still throbbing in a mamba-like beat.

"You should sit down," Ray told Fraser, taking a long look at his friend when they were in the parking lot, "You look like crap."

"Understood," Fraser nodded his head slightly, wincing, before pausing for a second, "I may need some assistance Ray." Fraser paused for another moment, "I think you should sit down as well."

"Might be an idea," Welsh interrupted them, helping Thatcher gingerly assist Fraser to sit on the sidewalk, before accomplishing the same thing with Ray, "The fire department is already on their way. I'll get an ambulance here as well."

"That's alright, I'm perfectly fine, Sir," Fraser told him, his back leaned up against the tire of Maggie's rental car.

"You are going to get in the ambulance when it gets here. No arguments Constable," Thatcher interrupted, eyes dark worry as she looked down at him, "Is that clear?"

"Yes Sir," Fraser resigned himself, at least if it was an order, he had a valid excuse, "Quite clear Sir."

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Casey watched the scene, anger vibrant in his eyes,twitching every once in awhile as the rage threatened to consume him. They were not supposed to escape the carefully planned deaths he'd prepared for them. He wanted to strike now, take them all out for foiling his plan, but there was too many. True two of them were injured, one possibly seriously, but two, maybe three of them were armed and he couldn't take the risk of being caught.

Thinking carefully, he continued to watch them. He watched as the one woman, the blond, tended to both injured parties. The dark haired woman seemed to simply tend to the mountie, but not as tenderly as one would expect. The man, he suspected he was Vecchio's Lieutenant, was on his phone, pacing the pavement in front of them.

It was obvious he was not going to get the mountie alone again, it could not be him he used against Vecchio this time. He'd go for the man himself, but he knew he'd be protected as well. 'Maybe the other mountie' he thought silently to himself, but shook his head. He didn't think she'd be a particularly east target and he knew the only reason her brother's kidnapping was successful was because of Grant's involvement.

'There has to be a way,' he thought angrily, nearly slamming his fist down on the steering wheel, but he stopped himself. He knew calling attention to himself was a very bad idea. He knew he could use occupation to an advantage, but that was only if he avoided being spotted by Vecchio, mountie and his sister until the opportune moment. It would certainly not be easy.

He looked up, seeing his previous victim being loaded into the ambulance, second thoughts poking into his mind. Maybe it would be smarter to just let it go? He thought about it for a second, before remembering the day his boys were born. He and his wife has tried so long for children, then were finally given fraternal twin boys. She had died in the process, leaving him to raise them alone.

The next memory to hit him was the day he'd found out one of his boys had died in an arrest gone wrong. Then his other son's conviction, then his death only one week ago.

Now he was alone, his entire family was gone. No, he could not just let it go.

He picked up his phone and dialed, "Grant.. we need to talk."

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"Alright, let me get this straight," Agent Pillette struggled to understand the concept, "Constable Fraser is alive and this was all an elaborate set up to frame Detective Vecchio."

"That about sums it up," Ray smirked a little from the chair he was sitting in. He'd been given a clean bill of health, well other than slightly bruised ribs. "I hate to say I told you so, but I told you so."

"Shut up Vecchio, I wasn't talking to you," Pillette snapped, "And he knew about Constable Fraser's whereabouts and failed to notify IAB when it could possibly exonerate him."

"Bite me," Ray snapped.

"He notified his superior officer, me. He also notified the Constable's superior officer as well," Welsh interrupted Ray stiffly, not liking Pillette's attitude, "And he did not know Constable Fraser's whereabouts. All he knew was that he was being held by two unknown males."

"His failure to cooperate could've lost Constable Fraser his life," Pillette argued, shooting a look at the detective. "I suggest he loses his shield on grounds of recklessly endangering the life of a fellow officer and obstruction of justice. I should have been notified Lieutenant."

"Vecchio, I believe these are yours," Welsh ignored the agent and handed Ray his badge and police issue gun, "Sorry for the confusion."

"Ah it's nothing Lieutenant," Ray smirked, enjoying Pillette's anger.

"Lieutenant Welsh, I'm afraid you may have misheard me," Pillette said through clenched teeth.

"Oh I heard you quiet clearly Agent Pillette," Welsh smiled fakely, "And as for your concerns, they're unnecessary. I have every reason to have faith in Detective Vecchio."

"Plus you're an ass who hates to be wrong," Ray piped up.

"That too," Welsh agreed, "and I would suggest that you stop fishing around for fake charges to place on my officer and put your resources into actual police work."

Pillette stared for a moment, before looking at Ray with narrowed eyes, "I'll be watching you Vecchio. You're dirty, I know it."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that," Ray muttered as the agent turned his back and walked away.

"That was... interesting," Maggie spoke up, having silently watched the interaction, "Isn't he the Agent who was with the other detective when you were arrested?"

"The one and only," Ray muttered, clearly not in the mood to talk about it, "When's Ice Queen getting back here anyways? She's been gone... what... a half hour? How long does it take you gals to use the bathroom anyways?"

"I don't think this is the appropriate venue to discuss such a topic Ray," Maggie told him, avoided the question, "Although it does seem Inspector Thatcher has been gone a long time for a bathroom visit."

---------------------------

Fraser lifted his head a little bit when his superior officer and another man entered his hospital room, "Inspector Thatcher," he greeted quietly, blinking hard.

"This is Agent Pillette of the IAB," Thatcher introduced in a low voice, aware that at the moment her officer was quite sensitive to noise and light, "He accosted me in the hallway and insisted he speak with you."

He squinted a little, the medication and his head wound making his vision a little fuzzy, "Have we met before?"

"We have Constable Fraser," the agent told him with a slight smile, "Not too long ago if I remember correctly."

"I apologize then Sir," Fraser told him, still straining a little to see, "It seems my memory may have been affected slightly by a number of blows I received to the head."

"That's quite alright Constable," Agent Pillette told him, "Now I must ask you to tell me in detail what happened two nights ago when you were assaulted and abducted, until you're escape only a short while ago."

"Pardon me Sir," Fraser frowned for a long moment, "but I don't believe mentioning to anyone that I was injured during the initial kidnapping. Am I mistaken?"

"No Constable," Pillette shook his head and looked around, a hand grabbing Thatcher's arm tightly, "You are not mistaken. I believe my cover has been blown. Now," he pulled Thatcher towards him, holding tightly, "You'll do as I ask, any failure to cooperate will result in an ugly death for your superior officer."

"Press the call button Constable," Thatcher interrupted, ignoring the gun laid against her temple, "Now. That's an order."

"I will shoot her Constable," Pillette warned him, his finger reaching for the trigger.

"I don't believe that will be necessary," Fraser placated quietly, purposely moving his hands away from the call button, wincing a little bit as he shifted his body a little.

"Fraser, press the damn button," Thatcher snapped, but Fraser shook his head.

"I'm sorry Sir," he told her, "I can't do that."

Pillette pulled Thatcher with him as he moved closer to Fraser, letting the mountie see his face clearly, "Remember me now Mountie? You must remember my keen love of baseball bats... perhaps my boot?"

"Oh dear," Fraser murmured, staring into Grant's cold eyes.

-----------

A.N: Of course I take them out of trouble only to put them in it again. Ah yes, if this sucked, I am sorry... I had trouble writing this one.

As for the fact that if Grant were Agent Pillette that Ray would have recognized him from when he brought the photos to the prison, all will be explained a little later.

Chapter Nine: The Word Impossible - More drama, more Benny, more Ray K and an explaination.


	9. The Word Impossible

A/N: I am so sorry about the wait. Between school and work it's been getting hard to find time to write. Since being laid off (I don't mind because I was going to quit anyways) a week ago, I've been a little ill. It's only now I've been able to find the time to write for you guys. Thanks for your patience and I hope you like chapter nine of "I Wish I Could Help You".

Chapter Nine: **The Word Impossible**

"Lieutenant," Ray addressed his lieutenant quietly, some notion scratching at the back of his mind, until he could not hold it back any longer, "I think something's wrong. I don't know what, but something."

"Something is wrong Yank," Fraser's father spoke up, appearing in the chair next to him.

"Look Vecchio, I'm sure whatev-" Welsh began, but he was soon interrupted.

"Lieutenant Welsh?" Detective Dewey came into the waiting room, "I just found Agent Pillette 'napping' in a storage cupboard. His badge was taken. I believe something may be afoot."

"Don't get a break do you Vecchio?" Welsh muttered and Ray shrugged, "No I didn't think so."

Ray stood up, "Didn't I just tell you something was wrong?" He ran a hand through his hair, "Well I guess now we know my hunch was right."

"You've got yourself another problem Yank," Fraser Sr spoke up and Ray shot him a look, not daring to speak to the man when others were around. He didn't need his boss and the rest of them thinking he was insane. "Shouldn't you have had someone guarding him?"

"We did," Ray muttered quietly, trying to keep the words low enough that no one else could hear them.

"We need to check Fraser's hospital room," Dewey told them, ever stating the obvious.

"Yeah Dewey, we know that," Ray muttered sarcastically, before moving down the hallway, towards where he knew his friend's room to be. A hand caught his arm before he got too far, "What is it Welsh?"

"You're not going," his Lieutenant told him firmly, "Seeing you will probably just piss the guy off. You'll stay here, Detective Dewey, Constable Mackenzie and I will take care of this mess of yours."

"It's Vecchio's mess," Ray mumbled under his breath savagely.

"What was that ­_Vecchio?_" Welsh asked, picking up the snark remark.

"Nothing_ Sir_," He shot back, sitting down in one of the hospital chairs as angrily as he could without hurting himself, "Go do what you have to do Lieutenant."

"I will Detective," Welsh nodded his head curtly, knowing that the officer was merely upset about being unable to help his friend.

----------------------------------------------------

"This can't be a very well thought out plan," Fraser spoke softly, using his hands to push himself into a sitting position to better see the hostage taker.

"And why is that Mountie?" Grant asked him with a smirk, tightening his hold on Inspector Thatcher, "It seems okay to me. I have you just where I want you. Helpless and unable to fight back."

"And what is your plan of escape?" Fraser asked, trying to poke a small hole into the man's plan.

"No one is going to stop someone with IAB credentials from leaving the building with an Inspector of the RCMP," Grant supplied the answer easily, gesturing to Inspector Thatcher with the gun he was currently holding to her head.

"Wherever the real Agent Pillette is, he will be found before long," Inspector Thatcher pointed out as she injected herself into the conversation, shifting within the grip Grant had on her.

"My superior is correct and when they go, they will realize something is amiss," Fraser collaborated with a slight nod of his head, before wincing and lowering himself gingerly back down on the hospital bed.

"Casey took care of Pillette," Grant gave a mock smile.

"And screwed you over," Lieutenant Welsh's voice interrupted, his gun aimed unwaveringly in Grant's direction, "He knocked him out and shoved him in a janitor's closet, it's not exactly what I call taking care of him."

"Get out! Get out or I will slaughter them both," he hissed, backing towards Fraser's bed, pulling Thatcher with him, "Get out of here. I mean it."

"I can't do that, and you know it," Welsh reminded him quietly, taking a few steps forward, "And even if you did get away, how long do you think it would be before we found you. We know what you look like, and it won't be hard to get a name, even if you kill Constable Fraser and Inspector Thatcher."

"It would not take long," Maggie interrupted, her blue eyes hard with anger, "If anything happens to my brother, I will not rest until you are brought to justice."

"Shut up and get out!" Grant muttered again, swallowing thickly, his grip on Inspector Thatcher loosening a little, "I mean it!" He backed up again a little bit, putting as much space between him and the police officer's as possible.

"Just give it up," Detective Dewey added for good measure, just wanting to get his own word in, "There's no getting out of this. It's impossible."

"I don't believe in the word impossible," Grant said as he backed up another step, hitting the side of Fraser's bed. Fraser shot up into a sitting position, grabbing the hand holding the gun and wrenching it away from Inspector Thatcher's temple. "Let go!"

"I will not," Fraser said simply, running on pure adrenaline, as he struggled with the man who had held his superior officer hostage.

Grant put a second hand on the gun, trying to pull it out of Fraser's grip. Inspector Thatcher took her chance, elbowing her captor in the stomach and ducking out of the way. Grant ignored her, slowly forcing the gun to point in Fraser's direction, "Say goodbye Mountie."

Two shots went off in quick succession. One dug into Grant's shoulder, knocking him over the side of the bed and onto Fraser's abdomen. The other flew harmlessly over Fraser's head as the force of Grant's fall shoved him back down on the hospital bed.

"Get him off him!" Maggie's shout caught at Detective Dewey's ears and he rushed forward, grabbing Grant off of Fraser and handcuffing him roughly.

"We got a cell in prison with your name on it buddy," Dewey grumbled, shoving him out of the room, "Oh yeah, and by the way, you're under arrest."

"Constable, are you okay?" Lieutenant Welsh leaned over the hospital bed, taking a good look at Fraser.

Fraser winced slightly, "I am perfectly fine, thank you kindly."

"In Fraser-speak that means get me a damn doctor, " Ray interrupted slightly, walking into the room, "Did you think I was going to wait in the waiting room like a good little detective?"

"No, I know you better than that Vecchio," Welsh muttered with a small shake of his head as he reached down and pressed on the call button for Fraser. A nurse was probably already on her way thanks to the ruckus they had caused, but it was always good to be sure.

"Frase? You alright there buddy?" Ray asked seriously, stepping up to the hospital bed and taking a critical look at his friend, "You don't look to hot, so don't lie to me."

"I've been better," Fraser admitted quietly, "but I have also been worse."

"Oh don't give us that," Maggie interrupted, standing beside Ray, looking extremely worried, "He fell on your broken ribs, you are not okay."

"She's right about that," Inspector Thatcher agreed quietly, sounding for once, a little bit human, "You need rest, but I do expect a full report shortly after you are released from the hospital."

"Yes Sir," Fraser spoke softly, before watching her retreating back as she left the hospital room, presumably in the pursuit of finding a doctor. They all seemed to be gone conveniently missing at the very time Fraser had needed one.

"Some weekend eh Frase?" Ray managed a small smile his friend's way, "We do attract the bad guys don't we?"

"It seems as though we do," Fraser offered up, eyes straying around the room a little bit, "I hope this marks the end of the weekend we've had. It has not been very pleasant."

"Understatement of the year," Ray muttered, rolling his eyes, "It has been a pail full of crap, that's what our weekend has been Frase, a pail full of crap."

"A pail?"

"Sounds better than a bucket," Ray shrugged lightly, another small smile finding his face.

"I have to agree," Maggie grinned a little bit, "Although I believe pile is the more commonly used analogy."

"Yet so unoriginal," Ray reminded them both, settling into the seat beside Fraser's hospital bed. Even though he held up the facade of lightness, his hand still laid protectively on his holster.

-----------------------------------------

His plan had gone completely down the drain. He had expected Grant to do better than he had actually performed. He had expected the man to take the mountie out, and die in the process, after all, he couldn't completely count out the Chicago PD.

It seemed the 27th District wasn't as much of a screw up as he had originally thought. They had managed to stop Grant, without causing the mountie any permanent harm, or even killing the hitman. In turn that meant Vecchio wasn't writhing in emotional agony, and that idiot Grant was still alive. That really pissed him off.

"You want to get something done, you do it yourself," he mumbled angrily to himself, slamming his foot down on the accelerator, "Can't trust nothing with no one." He was going to have to go there and take care of things himself, it was the only way to ensure no more mistakes were made. He would not let the man who had killed both of his sons get away with it. Not if he had any say in the matter.

The buildings flew past him as he drove towards the hospital, a blur in the side windows. He barely realized just how fast he was actually driving, until he met with the intersection much faster than he expected to.

A truck side-swiped him, sending the vehicle out of control as he slammed on the breaks. Another vehicle crashed into the left side of the tail end of his own car, sending him into a swerve, until it careened straight into a street light.

"DAMMIT!" The curse came out just as the street light approached his vision lightening fast. He braced himself for the impact. His head jerked forward, but his seatbelt held him in place. The airbag deployed, hitting him hard in the face. He looked around blearily for a moment as blood dripped down into his eyes, before slumping against the airbag, his energy failing him.

It looked as if his plan for revenge was null and void. He resigned himself to the only two outcomes that could possibly develop, he would be arrested, or he would die.

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A/N: Okay so there is chapter nine. There shall only be one or two chapters more. I'm sorry if this chapter was not satisfactory compared to the wait I forced upon you. I hope you liked it, even though it is slightly shorter than the other chapters. Please review, it's appreciated. All out flames are indeed not, so please be kind and involve constructive criticism if you did not like the chapter for any reason.

--Queen of Cliffies--


	10. Live it Up!

A/N: Wow now I just feel bad. I am so sorry for making you wait five long months for the last chapter. Unfortunately due to some extenuating circumstances I was unable to get this to you sooner. I hope you forgive me now that I am successfully ending this story. I hope you've enjoyed it. I may stick to oneshots and beta-reading from now on to avoid doing this to people.

--

Chapter 10: Live it Up!

The paramedic approached the wreck carefully, before setting himself to the task of seeing if the man was alive. He pressed two fingers to the man's neck and let out a sad sigh, "The guy's dead… no passengers either," he called to his partner.

His partner took one look at the guy, "Isn't that the guy the cops are after? I saw a picture or a sketch or something on a bulletin the boss gave us."

"Well you usually take care of that stuff, so you tell me," the first guy muttered, packing his stuff back up.

"It's him," his partner confirmed, "Cops heard 'bout the wreck on the scanner, they're already on their way. Hopefully this'll put those two cops out of harms way. I heard this guy's a real bastard."

"I heard the same," he shrugged his shoulders carelessly, "Whatever, it's over now."

"Lieutenant Welsh," the man seemed to come out of nowhere, which was a feat considering he wasn't a small man. The lieutenant held out his hand for the paramedic's to shake, "I see you've stumbled upon our guy?"

The first paramedic nodded, shaking Welsh's hand quickly, "Francois LeBlanc. Yeah a passer by called in the accident. Your guy is dead and gone. No need to worry about him anymore."

"Good," Welsh muttered, moving over to the car and peering inside, "You're sure he's dead?"

"As sure as the hair on my head," Francois told him with a firm nod, "He's definitely dead. I checked myself."

"Alright," Welsh nodded, "You guys can leave now. My men will secure the scene until evidence response gets here. Now… you're absolutely sure he's dead?"

"Yes sir," Francois said yet again, wondering both why his partner was being so silent and why the lieutenant so badly wanted to make sure this man was dead.

"You can never be too sure," Welsh managed a small, wry smile, "Goodbye Mr. LeBlanc, I'm sure someone more deserving needs your attention right now."

Francois turned and left, thinking all in all it was a very odd experience. As his partner climbed into the passenger's seat, he questioned, "That was different huh?"

"I know that guy," his partner interrupted, "The lieutenant I mean. I don't think he recognized me. As soon as I saw him, I knew I recognized the dead guy too. It's just strange Frank."

"From where Gary?" Francois questioned, now extremely curious, "How do you know these guys? Didn't the dead guy kidnap two cops… a Canadian one too at that."

"The dead guy, Casey Stevenson," Gary muttered, looking away from his partner and friend, "Well I probably shouldn't tell you this, but it doesn't matter because he's dead. Well I testified against his sons. He swore he'd kill me. I'm actually not even supposed to be in Chicago. I broke the rules. I look a lot different now than I did then though."

"Wow that's…"

"Hinky.. I know."

--

Ray smiled his first real smile in days when he walked back into the hospital room that was holding his friend, "They found Casey. He won't be bothering us again, ever."

"He's dead," Fraser said in a quiet voice. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about it. He always found it sad when a life was lost, well most of the time. Now a strange new feeling was coming over him. He wasn't particularly happy the man was dead, but he was relieved and he wasn't sure how to take that.

"I know it's not the best news," Thatcher interrupted him quickly, "I know you'd rather a safe apprehension of the suspect. However as you know that is not always possible."

"You're correct Sir," he nodded his head and let it sink back into the pillow, "I'll have the report on your desk as soon as possible Sir."

"It can wait Constable, due to your current medical state," she managed a tight smile, trying to keep her professionalism intact. She was determined to never let her subordinate know just how worried she had been for his safety. She wasn't even going to admit to herself she was slightly worried about Ray. "I'm sure I can find a suitable replacement for your duties during your hospital stay."

"I'm willing to volunteer," Maggie smiled at the Inspector, "I'd have nothing to do otherwise Ma'am. I can take care of Diefenbaker as well during Ben's recovery."

"I do not need recovery," Fraser spoke up softly, but he got a myriad of stern looks from the people (and wolf) visiting him in the hospital room.

"Ah give it up Frase," Ray rolled his eyes, "The whole indestructible mountie thing is getting old. Just lay back and relax. It's paid medical leave, live it up!"

"Live it up?" Fraser looked at his friend, looking slightly bewildered, "In what way do you mean Ray?"

"Just leave it to me Fraser-Buddy," Ray grinned, looking slightly mischievous, "Just leave it to me."

--

a/n: I know it was a short ending chapter. I am sorry. I am also again sorry for the wait. I hope you enjoyed the story.


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